


Triple Dare You

by iDiru



Series: Double Dare Verse [2]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: A lot of calling eachother gay while balls deep, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Peter, Boys Being Boys, Boys Getting High, Boys Kissing, Don't think about it, First Time Anal Sex(sort of), Humor, Intoxicated Sex, M/M, Peter doesn't either really, Peter has to explain what bisexuality is to Roman who's an idiot, Peter is high as hell and just wants affection, Roman is kind of a dick, Roman still doesn't know what pansexuality is, Sassing x100, Sequel to Dare You Dare You Double Dare You, They shit talk eachother the entire time, Timeline is undetermined, Top Roman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDiru/pseuds/iDiru
Summary: When a storm traps Peter and Roman alone at the trailer, Roman's boredom and subsequent anxiety leads him to getting high and taking Peter up on the offer of 'doing something more' to pass the time.Sequel to Dare You Dare You Double Dare You





	Triple Dare You

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone wondering why the fuck I haven't been writing The Mask The Monsters Wear, this is why. I just can't write two things at once and I had to finish this first. 
> 
>  
> 
> For anyone else, disregard that first comment. This is a sequel as the summary said, and you might want to read it first [Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001381)

 

There had been a lull; a stall in investigation. Bad weather and cops had made for it hard for Peter or Roman to really do some snooping. It had been almost a week since Roman had fallen for Peter's dare and he tried not to think about it half the time, but Peter was looking a bit different to him since that point. They were still friends and nothing was getting in the way of that, and yet...sometimes, when he was alone, he thought of that day and how he'd asked Peter to take things further one day, but he hadn't had the courage to ask him about it. Peter, clearly, didn't give a shit. What was the harm in asking? It was never the right time, it was awkward, they weren't ever alone at the right moment... Roman had nearly forgotten about it until the bad weather had gotten worse. Roman had met Peter at his house with the thought of trying to check out the mill but a storm so severe struck while he was there that it was unwise to actually leave. It left them stranded, alone; Lynda was out of town and wouldn't be back for a few days at least.

 

 

Roman found he was incredibly bored and incredibly annoyed. They had shit to do, time was wasting...So instead he sat with an annoyed, nervous twitch in Peter's trailer. On opposite ends of the couch, watching on his very out of date TV a weather report, making him feel like some old geezer. It showed no signs of stopping according to this and it only annoyed him more. Peter had gone into the bedroom when the power flickered, returning with a box.

 

“What's that?” Roman asked, finding it came out sounding impatient and annoyed.

 

“I'm sick of watching you act like a crack head,” Peter said, pulling out a joint from the box. “Would you smoke this already?”

 

“You think we should?”

 

“Are you really turning down a joint? What are you, sick?”

 

“No, I'm not turning it down,” he scoffed. He took it from Peter and lit it up with his own lighter, taking in a nervous drag and exhaling a little sooner than he'd have liked. “I'm just sick of not being able to do anything. Now it's fucking raining and I'm stuck here. Whole place smells like wet dog, too.” Roman remarked.

 

“Fuck off,” Peter said, elbowing him in the side as he grabbed the joint from him. “There's nothing better to do right now, is there? If we're going to be stuck somewhere we might as well be in it for the long haul.”

 

“Your idea of a long haul is smoking weed?”

 

“It helps.”

 

They passed the joint between the two of them for a few moments and Roman found it took the edge off a bit, until the power flickered once more and the lights fell dim. The power went out and all that illuminated them was from the outside. Thankfully, it was afternoon, and despite the rain clouds outside the light difference wasn't too bad.

 

“Ughh,” Roman groaned, leaning back heavily onto the couch and throwing his head back somewhat dramatically. “Fuck, I'm so _bored_ and now we don't even have TV.” 

 

“What was it doing for you anyway? Newsflash, it's still raining, Roman.”

 

“It was something to focus on. What am I supposed to focus on now? You?” Roman scoffed.

 

“You want to play twenty questions?” Peter asked sarcastically.

 

“I'd rather cut my dick off than do that.”

 

“That's an extreme reaction,” Peter mumbled.

 

Roman took in one more drag and set it down on the ashtray in front of him on the coffee table, fully expecting to pick it up in a minute. He looked down at his phone in an attempt to try to do something but he got no service in this shit hole. Of course he didn't. Peter, on the other hand, seemed used to this kind of thing. It's like he didn't care; he was just content to sit there, socked feet kicked up on the coffee table smoking the joint Roman had put down, blowing smoke rings into the air and amusing himself with that. He had his arm thrown over the back of the couch, his head leaned back against it, looking surprisingly lanky despite the fact that he was actually smaller than Roman was. Smaller indeed... Peter was ignoring him for the most part and it gave Roman's eyes a chance to wander, as did his mind. The thing he'd considered a couple of times, alone and thinking of bringing the subject up to Peter...Never able to because they weren't ever alone. They were  _very_ alone, at this point. 

 

 

Roman should've been thankful that he'd been smoking or he might not have broached the subject so carelessly. It was a clear uncaring attitude, like he didn't really give a shit what the answer was, or that he didn't care that he even said it, but he did. It was out of his mouth before he even really considered what he was asking but once it was out, he wasn't worried. He didn't really care.

 

“You wanna make out and see where it goes?” he asked, eyeing the smoke ring that Peter blew out. He exhaled once more, choked slightly, leftover tendrils of smoke fleeing his lungs as he let out a breathless laugh.

 

“Bold,” was his only reply.

 

“If you don't, I don't really care. Just taking you up on that offer. There's nothing else better to do.”

 

“I thought you forgot about it,” Peter said, setting the joint in the ashtray again, though he noticed that he'd extinguished it this time.

 

“There just hasn't been a time to ask, we've been fuckin' busy or at school or some shit, or my mom's home, or your mom's home.”

 

“I never thought your ... _something more_ statement was just making out. You're so vanilla.” 

 

“Are you deaf? I said 'and see what happens'. What, I thought dogs were supposed to have good hearing?”

 

“How 'bout instead of making out I just kick your ass? Shut the fuck up.”

 

“Like you could kick my ass-” Roman was interrupted in his sentence when Peter turned to face him and practically crawling into his lap to kiss him. It was more like he was just leaning against him, braced on his shoulder and the back of the couch with how Roman was positioned, and with how Peter had been. It was quick and rough, almost aggressive, and when he pulled away a second later Roman had to try to remember how to speak. 

 

“Jesus...warn me,” he finally said, to which Peter laughed.

 

“I thought you knew, you asked.”

 

“You didn't say _yes_...or no, for that matter.” 

 

“You still want me to say yes?” Peter said, migrating into his lap seconds later. He placed his knees on either side of Roman's hips, nearly sitting against the top of his thighs but not putting his full weight on him.

 

“I guess not...” Roman said, tentatively placing his hand on Peter's hip to steady him.

 

“What do you want?” Peter asked, a little quieter than he'd been speaking. It was low, whispered, almost sultry.

 

“Now?” Roman asked, matching his volume. “I thought I made that clear.”

 

“No, you said to see where it goes. Where do you want it to go?”

 

“I...” Roman stalled, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I don't know, I kind of want to fuck you.”

 

“Really?” Peter asked, amusement and surprise in his tone but still he spoke in that low, quiet, almost teasing voice. “A few days ago you were _totally_ _not gay_ and now you want to fuck me. You move fast.” 

 

“I probably would've tried last time if my dick wasn't so spent. I really wanted to.”

 

“I thought you just wanted a blowjob or something, honestly...” Peter laughed.

 

“Sorry,” Roman said a little defensively. “I mean I'm not gonna make you if you're not into it.”

 

“I didn't say I wasn't into it,” Peter said, absentmindedly undoing some of Roman's hair at the side, pulling it loose from how it sat. “I'm just surprised. Especially since you don't really know what you're doing.”

 

“Then teach me, I'll learn.”

 

“Just try to remember last time,” Peter had been more or less just speaking to him, but he finally leaned down to kiss him again. His heart was thudding heavily in his chest again with the mere knowledge of this concept. He'd been the one to choose this, but God was it taboo.

 

Peter was a little different than last time. The first time he'd kissed him it had been so calculated. Everything about that day was calculated. Peter was trying to prove a point, and then he'd been eager to get the fuck out of there. There had been a nervous energy between both of them, even though Peter was more collected than either of them. A sort of testing the waters; what was okay, what wasn't, because it had been him that had suggested it in the first place. Like dancing around each other with tentative touches in something that really wasn't actually sex, and with the knowledge that Roman was, as Peter put it, totally not gay. But he seemed more relaxed at this point. More okay with pushing boundaries, not needing to ask if he could kiss him or not, because Roman had suggested it. 

 

In the heat of the moment, Roman slipped is hand up Peter's shirt, up his spine, letting his other hand slip down away from his hip to his ass, trying his best to cop a feel. Admittedly there wasn't much to grab with his position and the fact that he was not entirely gifted in this department, but Roman had never really given it much thought. He seemed to enjoy it, muffled with his kiss, he emitted a soft yet pitched exhale. He could feel it go straight to his groin, which was growing far stiffer by the minute. At this point he really hoped it moved further than just making out because he was definitely going to be stuck with a boner if not.

 

 

“Jesus,” Peter said, pulling away finally, his breathing labored. “You trying to fuck me already with your pants on? You're stabbing me in the ass.”

 

“Well, you're _sitting_ on me.” Roman said. “Where do you think it's going to go?” 

 

Peter breathed out a laugh and suddenly got off of him, standing with a stumble as he stepped back onto the carpet. Face to crotch, Roman could vaguely tell he was aroused. It was kind of hard to see, physically, in jeans.

 

“Come on,” he said, saying little more as he left him, rounded the corner, and disappeared from sight. Roman felt like a baby deer, legs weak and new as he tried to stand and also stumbled after him, with the unfathomable fear that he had to get to him quickly or all of this would be for naught, despite the fact that it made no sense. He was waiting for him at the end of the hallway, standing next to his open bedroom door with a come-hither gaze. Somehow being high made it seem like the hallway was so much longer than it was, but as he reached him Peter stepped back into his room, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him in. Had that not shown his eagerness alone what he did next would.

 

 

He shut the door at the same time he surged forward to kiss him, managing to turn him around at the same time and push him back towards the bed. It wasn't hard, considering the space between his door and his bed were very minimal. Roman stumbled slightly against it, falling back a little less gracefully and dragging Peter down with him. He was half hanging on the bed with Peter having fallen lower, against his chest, in which he buried his face and stifled his laughter.

 

“Shit,” he said, lifting his head up to look at him. “Sorry.”

 

“You almost broke my legs,” Roman replied, dragging himself backwards onto the bed while Peter did the same, hovering over him. They were laying horizontally across the bed at this point, or at least he was. Peter was more or less on all fours above him.

 

“You could stand to lose a few inches...”

 

“Well, you seem really fucking eager, and I can't do shit with broken legs...”

 

“I'm not eager,” Peter scoffed, rolling off him and onto the bed next to him.

“Really? Then what are you?”

 

“Honestly? High.”

 

“Oh, okay...” Roman said, rolling over to face him. He laid his hand over Peter's chest, burying his face in his neck and kissing him there while he dragged his hand down towards his crotch. This weed was...something. Though he had a feeling his nervousness from before had been about the hangups of fucking with a friend and not being gay, he had a feeling that whatever the fuck it was that he'd been smoking certainly made him a bit more confident. More confident, and Peter more relaxed and eager though he wanted to doubt it. He just didn't care.

 

He reached between his legs, gripping him through his jeans and dragging his hand upward, listening to him exhale heavily, which turned into an expression of some kind of amusement. He had planned to go somewhere with this, to make some snide remark, but at the moment he was too concerned with what he was doing. Sucking welts into his neck and feeling him grow more and more aroused beneath his touch, feeling the thudding of his own pulse; excitement, arousal, need. Peter lifted his hips, rolling them against his hand lazily. The nervousness was beginning to return to him, but it was a different kind. Like he wasn't quite sure what to do. Where to go next, what he wanted from him. Nothing, and everything all at once.

 

 

He removed his hand and rolled on top of him, giving him little room between where he braced against the mattress and where he kissed him. They were chest to chest but it still gave Peter room to breathe. He leaned to the side some so that he could slide one hand up Peter's shirt, to drag his hand along his skin and expose him further though he wasn't sure exactly what he was doing. He just knew he wanted to touch him. It seemed as though he enjoyed it with the way he arched against his touch. Even though Roman was doing little but kissing him, albeit passionately and hard, and running his fingers up his ribs Peter was enthused enough to moan lightly against his mouth. There was some kind of minuscule sense of shame that he got from the feeling it gave him. The fact that Peter elicited the same feelings as women, even though he _knew_ now he was attracted to him in some way. He felt his hands on him; one on the back of his neck, the other dragging down his back. Some clawing, desperate and needy action that for some reason aroused him greatly. The shame was still present but the state of his dick was far more pressing.

 

 

Peter pulled at his shirt until he pulled it up, urging Roman to break away so that he could pull it off him entirely. Roman repeated this process as soon as Peter had hauled it off of him, dragging Peter's own shirt up enough to pull it off of him. It was difficult; it was a t-shirt that didn't quite fit him right. He stared at him with intensity, lips parted and panting, hungry and waiting for Roman to close in on him again. Peter hadn't quite allowed him to see this before and if he could get any harder, he probably would. Jesus Christ, he just _knew_ at some point shit was going to get awkward when he remembered this. But Peter did not wait for him to come, instead he surged up and caught his mouth, kissing him roughly as he wrapped his legs around Roman's waist, pushing his shoulder with the other arm and managing to roll him over with Roman's assistance. Though Roman did help Peter with this, he still felt a little shell shocked at being on his back so suddenly. He recovered at Peter insistently trying to shove his tongue in his mouth.

 

It was welcome to him, of course. He returned his affection, gripped his chin with one hand and managed to grip his hair with the same one. His fingers were long enough to do so, though he could only get the hair at the bottom. Peter had one hand against Roman's chest, bracing against it, while the other held him up against the bed so that he didn't have all his weight on him. He was very languidly moving his hips against him, the action so gentle that the feeling Roman got from it was minimal, if anything. It only made him more desperate. He wasn't sure if that was Peter's intention, but he knew he wanted to get Peter's pants off. His hand slid upwards into his hair until he could grab a handful and pull him back. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it got his attention. When he pulled away Roman urged him back, just long enough to get his hands between the two of them and go for his belt. Peter raised up, sitting on his knees while Roman pushed his jeans down. Once he was undressed he pulled away from him, sitting next to him instead, instructing him to move so that he was less lying horizontally across the bed, and instead vertically against the pillows.

 

 

Once he did so, he seemed to stall. Not so taken over by lust at the moment he sat there for thinking about his actions, looking somewhat guilty. To Roman, he couldn't help but laugh, to which Peter gave a half hearted glare. He was sitting there naked with a boner looking slightly ashamed and it was for some reason hilarious.

 

“Fuck off,” Peter said, looking at him finally with a sense of sincerity that should make Roman stop laughing but it didn't. He had to stop himself. “This is okay, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Roman said, once again letting out a light chuckle. “I haven't stopped you, have I?”

 

“I don't want to be a fuckin' dick, like you are, sitting here laughing. I thought I might've gotten too carried away.”

 

“Do you do this with everyone? Do you ask if it's okay before you grab a girl's tits?”

 

“I like to be considerate, asshole. Especially with someone with as many hangups as you have.”

 

“Hangups?” Roman asked, leaning up on his arms to better look at him on a better level. “I don't have any hangups.”

 

“Oh, I'm totally not gay. I won't like it in the ass. Who likes ass sex? It's totally weird. There's only one sexuality, clearly,” Peter mocked.

 

Roman was close enough so that he could drag Peter over by wrapping an arm around his shoulders and haphazardly pulling him on top of him. He kissed him briefly and ran his hand up the center of Peter's chest, splaying his hands out along one of his pectoral muscles.

 

“If I squint, you've kinda got tits,” he said with a smirk, “And long hair,” he continued, using his other hand to card through his hair.

 

“I don't have tits,” Peter responded, straddling him once more after he'd gotten his bearings. “You're just...on the cusp, of admitting you might like boys. Gay-lite. I think you're still scared, won't even let me fuck you.”

 

“Do you want to fuck me?” Roman inquired, not falling for Peter's ruse. He knew he was fucking with him, rightfully so, as Roman had did moments before.

 

“No, you're too much trouble. By the way...it's called bisexual. I can't believe I have to give you this lesson right now. You really are sheltered.”

 

“I mean...I guess,” Roman said, letting the hand that had been on Peter's chest wrap around him to trail down his back. “But I don't really actively try to fuck guys, you know?”

 

“Jesus, we really need to have a talk...” Peter mumbled. “Like, come on, I know you've heard of the term before.”

 

“I thought it was like...an even split! I spent most my life going after girls.”

 

“Not really,” Peter said with a laugh.

 

“So you're bisexual, then?”

 

“If you really feel you need to put a label on it, yeah. It's not that big of a deal.”

 

“I don't know...” Roman said, “I think it's kinda hot.”

 

“I'm flattered...” Peter said with a laugh, leaning down to kiss him once more. It was a slow, gentle kiss that was much different than before.

 

“I didn't say _you_ were hot,” Roman said with a scoff after he'd pulled away. “But I wouldn't be asking to fuck you if I didn't think you weren't kinda...pretty.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Peter said dismissively. “So can I take your pants off or what?”

 

“Whatever, go for it. But ball comments are off the table,” Roman said, remembering the last time had been somewhat...embarrassing for him in that aspect.

 

“Okay,” Peter said, sitting up and putting his hands up in a show of solidarity. He scooted down far enough so that he could get as his belt, undoing it and managing to slip his pants down his hips at least and let Roman take it the rest of the way. It was an awkward kicking and shuffling with Peter half hovering above him, trying not to accidentally knee him in the balls and ruin this whole thing for both of them. Peter leaned his weight back onto him after the both of them were undressed, skin to skin, he kissed him once more. It was unusual; he was heavier than a girl, lacked the tits, had a lot more hair not to mention the fact that he could feel his cock against the inner part of his hip, leaving vaguely slick and damp places in its wake.

 

 

It wasn't like he hadn't kissed Peter before, or like they hadn't mutually fingered each other in his bedroom, but he had never been on top of him like this. But he was warm and inviting, and so very affectionate and willing. Some of this had to be the weed's doing. Hesitantly one of his hands drifted down his back, his mission clear in his mind but there was reluctance in his actions. A pounding in his ears straight from his chest. He slipped down long enough to cop a feel but found himself stagnant. A question burning; permission, he needed permission. He felt like he didn't know what to do with his hands so he settled the one on his lower back once more.

 

“Can I...uh,” he stalled, stammered slightly as he spoke. “You know. Right?” it was an awkward question, one he didn't want to say the full words to. He just hoped Peter understood. Why was it so awkward? He guessed it was because this wasn't what he dealt with. He didn't have to worry about fingering her in the heat of passion because she was usually already wet; far more receptive. He could've done it here, too, but he felt like there was definitely more work involved.

 

“Reach under the pillow,”

 

 

At first he was confused, but he did reach upwards beneath the pillow to drag out a cylindrical tube. He chuckled at the realization that Peter just kept lube under the pillow, instead of literally anywhere else.

 

“Does this not bother you?” Roman asked, trying to navigate with some difficulty due to the fact that Peter was on top of him, making the best way of opening it over his back.

 

“Do you think I'm like the Princess and the Pea? It's way under there.”

 

“You really gotta have it on hand like this, huh? How many boys do you invite back here?” Roman quipped.

 

“I use it to jerk off, dumb ass. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

 

“Not the one I thought...” Roman responded quietly, finally managing to snap open the tube and succeed not just on getting some on his fingers but down Peter's back, to which he hissed in discomfort.

 

“Do you know what you're doing?”

 

“I can figure it out.” he said, hesitantly letting his hand slip lower once more, avoiding touching him until he got to where he needed to be. Peter shifted slightly to accommodate him better, spreading his legs and shifting his hips up to meet him.

 

“Well at least you're in the right spot.”

 

“Fuck, am I? I thought your asshole was on your stomach.”

 

Peter breathed out a laugh and settled his head in the crook of Roman's shoulder, somewhat heavily against his collarbone. It was slightly uncomfortable but he ignored it in favor of trying to figure out just what he was doing. He remembered last time, and he remembered what Peter had done to him. He knew he shouldn't try to force himself in until Peter relaxed more. He wasn't quite as uptight as Roman was and it wasn't as hard. He congratulated himself by being able to ease at least one finger in. He couldn't deny the fact that Peter was distracting to him. He was kissing along his jaw, sucking the skin of his neck until it undoubtedly left marks, leaving bites in their wake. Nothing too hard, just soft nips that broke no skin but distracting none the less.

 

He could feel his pulse quicken the further he got. He knew what this would lead to, and it somehow made it all the more real. Jesus, he was really going the distance, wasn't he? He tried to ignore this anxiety with busying his fingers but the anxiety seemed to make his task a little worse, and as he pushed in a second finger, feeling it constricted by tight, slick heat Peter let out a muffled groan against his neck. This was really an awkward position, but Peter had made no move to relocate, it seemed like he wanted it this way. With his head leaned sideways, resting against him.

 

“You're a little rough,” Peter chastised, sitting up suddenly and bracing himself, hands splayed on Roman's chest. He was straddling him now with his knees bent on either side of Roman's hips. The shift in position was weird to him; he felt the muscles around him shift somewhat and he was forced to adjust his hand. It made his fingers cramp slightly.

 

“Sorry I was...distracted,” he admitted.

 

“Are you scared?” Peter asked, sincerely. There was no jovial tone about it, he seemed genuinely concerned. But of course Roman scoffed.

 

“No, why would I be scared?”

 

“You just seem anxious.”

 

“I just didn't wake up with the knowledge that I'd be fucking you today. That's shit you gotta prepare for, you know?”

 

“Where's your sense of spontaneity?”

 

Roman grumbled out an incomprehensible noise in response, continuing to try to work his fingers into him without hurting him, but the position made it a little difficult.

 

“Are you sure you're okay?” Peter asked suddenly, earning a sigh from him as he stilled his ministrations.

 

“I don't know...It's just kind of hard to do this when you're sitting on top of me, and I can't really work myself up to it if I'm just laying here. Is there a reason you're hell-bent on being on top of me?”

 

“Oh...shit, sorry...” Peter said, a nervous but amused laugh following his words. “I wanted to make it easier for you.”

 

“It's kind of making it harder...”

 

“Yeah...sorry. I was gonna ride you, so you didn't have to do anything at first. Do you want me to move?”

 

Roman was really conflicted; he thought it might be nice if he did, but he was finding it a lot harder to really _want_ to fuck him when he was just laying there. He wanted to be in control and not breaking his wrist trying to finger him. But regardless, he sucked in a breath through his teeth in deliberation. What did he want? His answer, though still debatable, finally came to him.

 

“Yeah...can you lay on your back?”

 

Reluctantly it seemed, Peter dislodged himself from Roman's fingers while he moved and allowed Peter to take his place, but not before piling more pillows up behind him to prop himself up. It left Roman sitting between his legs and it was somewhat strange to him. He'd been so limited in visibility the last time, so rushed, but now Peter had bared himself completely to him. Exposed to his very core almost and yet so very nonchalant.

 

“Does this work for you?”

 

Roman only nodded, then applied more lube to his fingertips as it began to dry and was easily able to get back to where he was before. Roman wasn't quite sure at this point what to do. He knew what he'd done last time; intentionally getting him off just by fingering him, but he knew that wasn't the goal here. He was hesitant when he searched out his prostate, but he recalled that Peter's reaction had been what really made him want him more. It wasn't apparent at first by his reaction when he'd found it. He only knew at first because it felt different than the rest of him. His reaction was minute; he simply pushed his hips towards him and arched his back slightly. He did exhale somewhat heavier but Roman might not have noticed if he hadn't been paying attention. He tried not to pay too much attention to it directly, he just moved his fingers back and forth.

 

“You can do three, you know.” Peter suddenly said. It startled him, he wasn't expecting him to speak and he had to try to figure out what he said.

 

“What?” he finally asked. “Will that fit...?”

 

“If you couldn't get three in how do you think your dick would fit?”

 

“Do you want me to put in three...?” Roman asked, after giving a shrug.

 

“It'll make shit a lot easier if you do.”

 

Two already seemed tight, three seemed...almost un-doable, but Peter was right. His dick wasn't the width of two of his fingers. Nevertheless, it was a struggle. He did manage to slide in a third with some difficulty but doing so was a bit harder due to not wanting to pull out completely. Peter winced slightly as he attempted this, to which he apologized. He finally got them to settle where he wanted them and waited for the sensation of Peter's muscles to stop clamping down on him so hard. With three fingers the game seemed changed. There was a lot less room, a lot more arm movement than wrist movement. He kept them tilted upwards with the knowledge that his prostate was in that general area, but it seemed harder to feel out with the constriction. Peter seemed pleased with it nonetheless, and after a good few experimental thrusts he listened to him breathe out, shaking and high in octave. Something that was _almost_ a moan but not quite. He was definitely much quieter than Roman was...

 

As he continued Roman had to admit he definitely enjoyed that sound, and he remembered the last time this happened. He remembered how desperate he'd become, listening to him with him leaned against him so close. He could feel the pulse of need between his legs once more but he waited. He waited until Peter said it was okay. At this point he wanted to distract himself from his need. It was hard now that Peter was rolling his hips against his hand in some erotic display of sin incarnate. Something this good couldn't be holy.

 

“I think I like being in control,” Roman said suddenly, causing Peter to pause from his sexual peacocking and chuckle at him.

 

“Oh yeah?” he said, his words somewhat breathless. “Who would've guessed.”

 

“Is that good for you?” he asked, the movement in his arm slowing slightly to converse with him. “Because it seems like you do, too.”

 

“I don't really care. I just got carried away. You just keep doing what you're doing.”

 

“Ok,” Roman said, resuming his ministrations. He listened to Peter's breathing pick up again and he seemed to be lost in this but Roman couldn't resist making a joke. “You want me to fist you next?”

 

It was an awkward sound that Roman wasn't sure how he thought about it, the noise Peter made. Roman never stopped working on him as he spoke, and it had pushed him further into pleasure at the same time it also made him laugh. A low keening moan that dissolved into laughter, only further warped by the way his lungs clenched around every breath. He was looking down at him, half caught between bliss and amusement. He put his hand to his face, up one side as he laughed and tilted his head back.

 

“No,” he breathed out, half between pleasure and laughter. He listened to him draw in a hissing breath, tilting his hips up and dragging his hand up through his hair as he cursed beneath his breath. Roman swallowed thickly as his breath got caught in his throat. He kept going as the ever persistent pulse of need throbbed between his thighs and he knew this was not what he was here for, and yet he was so enraptured by it. To watch him slowly devolve into something that was not quite so composed. Not that Peter was known for being a completely composed individual; he had seen him fall prey to anxiety, but this was a far different type of composure loss.

 

In his distraction, he was surprised at the sudden surge of noise he heard followed by the flickering of lights. The air conditioner had been on and the power returning had kicked it back on. Roman felt an unusual sense of dismay, and he followed it with a question he should've known the answer to.

 

“Fuck, do you want to stop?” he asked, stalling briefly.

 

“Fuck no,” Peter responded, breathing out a laugh. “I mean...yeah,” With this response, Roman felt a fleeting disappointment until Peter continued. “Fuck me instead.”

 

“What?” he asked, briefly confused.

 

“I want you to fuck me, come on,” he insisted. It was mildly desperate and pleading, though Peter hid it as well as he could. He abruptly withdrew his fingers and fumbled for the lube that had been withdrawn on the bed.

 

“You sure you're good, right?” Roman asked, still struggling to open the lube now, barely even waiting for a response. He was pretty sure he knew what to do, here. It was pretty straight forward. Round peg into round hole, right? It's not like his ass was Ikea.

 

“Yeah, I'm good.”

 

Roman had already been squeezing lube onto his hand as Peter answered him, hands shaking slightly as he gripped his cock and slicked it up. Why was he nervous? Maybe it was more of a nervous excitement. He breathed out a final, long breath as he gripped himself, lining up and preparing to enter. It was ungiving at first. Not so simple as a vagina, he was tentative and careful to force himself in as though he might break Peter. But Peter assured him he was not so delicate and this spurred Roman to try harder. He did finally get into him, inch by inch, swallowed by heat and tightness. Oh fuck, it was tight. He had to bite down on his lip to stifle the moan that threatened to spill from him. He ended up with his head leaning against Peter's collarbone as he finished sheathing himself inside, feeling him reach up to run his fingers through Roman's hair and down his neck seconds later. Peter pulled his head back by his hair to get enough room to actually kiss him, busying himself while he waited for his body to adjust to the intrusion. Roman had tried to move but found it too difficult; Peter constricted him way too tightly. He could once again see the benefits of fucking someone in the ass. This was way tighter than a pussy.

 

But Peter was insistent, barely allowing himself to adjust before he rolled his hips forward and wrapped one of his legs around Roman's waist. Even though Roman couldn't go deeper if he tried, Peter wanted some kind of friction. Desperate and needy as he worked his tongue into his mouth again, which Roman readily accepted. It was really weighing on him that Peter had done this before. He was _experienced_ , in ways Roman wasn't. For all the man whoring Roman had done he was shocked to have found someone who had more experience than he did, but this was something so different. And yet...that was a very attractive quality to him. Peter knew what he wanted, knew how he worked, and knew how to get Roman to do it. Who would've guessed he was kind of a slut? In the best way possible.

 

 

With Peter's insistence, he finally did move. Pulled away from his mouth as he shifted his position. He leaned his elbows on either side of him, putting very little of his own weight down on him. He pulled away, briefly biting at his lip and pulling with his teeth as he drew out, thrusting back in with a pleasured exhale of his own. Peter met his thrusts by rolling his hips towards him and it made him shiver with excitement and lust all the way up his spine from his groin. Despite the constricting tightness he was able to work up a decent rhythm, and Peter kissed him lazily between fevered exhales that the two of them shared. Until Peter had tilted his head back one too many times, baring his throat to Roman who could no longer deny the urge to bite him.

 

 

Not hard, of course. He nipped and sucked at the skin of his throat, with the full intent on leaving marks. He knew this would get both of them into shit in school, knowing they'd both sport the same wounds of passion. Shit, in that moment, that's what he wanted. He wouldn't deny that some part of him felt some kind of sick thrill to be looked at the way he was when he was with Peter. But there was some other strange desire somewhere deep within him that told him to draw blood, even though he wouldn't, he wanted to. This seemed to satisfy the urge even though the only thing he tasted was skin, slick with his own saliva and the faint tang of sweat. Gross, in hindsight, but he didn't care.

 

 

But Peter had been fairly quiet, still. Pitched exhales and soft moans in his ears as he was nearly level with his mouth. He _had_ been. Roman hadn't thought to thrust up, he'd forgotten about Peter for a moment. But he had by accident, a simple shift and he changed his positioning just enough to satisfy him. He listened to him take in a gasp, then elicit a low and desperate mewl. He clawed his nails down Roman's back, earning a rough groan into Peter's skin as he slammed his hips forward again and gained a similar response. Desperate, gasping, keening. He begged him, cursed and pleaded, digging his nails into Roman's back and rolling his hips forward. His muscles seized slightly with the movement, and he seemed to both tighten his hold on Roman's hips with his thighs and spread his legs further at the same time by drawing them upward.

 

 

Roman pulled away from him suddenly, a slick popping noise of his mouth coming away from the skin of Peter's neck sounding the room as he pulled himself upward. Fucking him felt good but hearing him felt better. But he was face deep in his neck and that's all he could do, he couldn't _see_ him. He re-positioned himself so that he was sitting up, spreading his legs further beneath Peter's hips so that for a moment Peter was pulled upwards. His thighs still wrapped around his waist, pulled into his lap.

It wasn't long before he was pushing Peter's legs back against his chest, leaning over slightly and bracing himself with one arm bracing himself against the bed while the other held onto the back of one of Peter's legs.

 

 

He thrust forward again and watched him tilt his head back, his back arched and meeting his thrusts. He took in another gasp, furrowed his brow and let out a high pitched, choked moan. He was flushed down to his chest and Roman caught his gaze for a moment, very nearly black with a halo of bright blue. For a moment he seemed embarrassed to be watched, but simply returned his gaze with a measured look of defiance. Like he knew Roman was watching him and he wasn't entirely happy about it, but he wasn't going to give in and tell him to stop.

 

 

“See something you like?” he asked with a hint of annoyance.

 

“Yeah, you,” Roman responded, a sense of smugness in his tone.

 

“Sounds pretty gay.”

 

“Shut up,”Roman said, huffing out a breath at the end of his statement as he slammed his hips forward again as hard as he could, aiming for his prostate with the best of his ability.

 

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Peter moaned out, the last syllable devolving into something incomprehensible cry of pleasure. He seemed breathless and utterly lost as Roman continued fucking into him, not quite as hard this time. He averted his gaze and this point, reaching behind him to grip at the pillow for something to hold onto, but this didn't stop Roman from watching him. It also didn't stop him from running his mouth. 

 

“You still look like a girl when I squint. Sound like one, too. They make the same noises,” Roman quipped. 

 

“They're probably faking it.” 

 

“Oh, are you faking it? Maybe I should stop.” 

 

“Fuck you, don't stop,” Peter said, practically whining now. “I'll kick your ass if you do.” 

 

Against Roman's better judgment, he re-positioned himself again so that he was closer to him, gripping his jaw and guiding it so that he turned his head towards him. He kissed him, somewhat frantically. The urge to be an asshole had filled him with a wild surge of adrenaline and he nearly missed. Once Peter realized what he was doing, which was purposefully not moving just to spite him, he pulled away from the kiss in a huff. 

 

“You're such an asshole, you know that? How do you get anyone into bed, being such a dick?” 

 

“I got you into bed.” 

 

“Fuck you,” Peter said, his voice slightly strained. Roman hadn't realized why until he felt Peter's thighs wrap around his waist, and he abruptly ended up on his back again. It left him dizzied and confused, his system still coursing with the remnants of weed and the high having not yet left him. Had he been sober this might not have happened in the first place.

 

“You lost your top privileges,” Peter said. He adjusted himself carefully so that Roman didn't end up dislodging himself, but Peter ended up half leaning on him and shifting his hips back so even if Roman tried to stay still, he couldn't. Peter was going to fuck himself if he had to. Despite the fact that he'd practically been pinned down and lost his autonomy, this sent a surge of lust burning deep in his stomach. Hot as it was, though, Peter was roughly rutting his cock against his stomach with each movement, and Roman just  _ couldn't _ help himself, with the memory of their first sensual meeting involving an off-handed remark about navel fucking. 

 

“Are you trying to fuck my stomach? Is this what you wanted the whole time?” Roman asked, his words starting to stutter and catch in his throat. In between breathless sighs, reveling in the tight heat around him. “Kinky bitch.” 

 

Luckily this only served to amuse Peter, but even if it had pissed him off he was desperate enough for Roman to get laid anyway. It's not like he was going to stop. 

 

“Do you ever shut up?” Peter asked, leaning down to kiss him once more, probably in an attempt to be quiet. Roman found one hand coming to tangle in his hair, at the back of his head. The other came to rest on Peter's hip, gripping it as he began to move once more. To try to get a rhythm going so that they both moved in tandem. It was awkward at first until he got the hang of it. Peter had pulled away at this point and breathed out a sigh against his lips, only briefly enough for Roman to capture them once more, however brief. It was oddly intimate; far more intimate than friendly, he realized. Peter was so close, leaning his forehead on Roman's and leaving him effectively blinded. He could see nothing but blurriness and the dark pit of Peter's pupils. 

 

But then again, how could he say what they were doing was anything but intimate, and not friendly? Friendship wasn't going balls deep in your friend. That was...something else. Not romance, but definitely not friendly. Friends with benefits...He had to force himself to stop focusing and thinking in circles on this one thought, because he had stalled and lost the initial rhythm he had. He sent thes thoughts away by kissing Peter as though he was the air Roman needed. Breathing deep, swallowing his sighs. Tangling his fingers so tightly in Peter's hair that he may never get free again. Peter didn't protest in the least bit. He used a free hand to hold Roman's jaw in place and return his passion ten-fold. Breaking away only to utter desperate shuttering gasps, and finally to lower his head against the crook of Roman's shoulder. He muttered obscenities into his skin, high pitched and whimpering. It did things to him... It spurred him on, made him fuck up and into him more desperately. He made Peter match his speed, instead of the opposite way around, because he was becoming so desperate to get off he  _ needed _ it now. Every cry and moan just pushed the urge closer, which only made things worse. 

 

But Peter suddenly stopped him, sitting up rather abruptly and placing both hands on Roman's chest. He fucked back onto him so hard he was afraid Peter might break his dick, but that fear was only secondary to how good it felt. He desperately tried to keep up, but his own movements, as were Peter's, had become jerky and erratic. Roman knew he was close, but he also realized that Peter was too. He lowered his other hand so that both of of them were gripping Peter's hips, helping to ground himself. He took in a hissing breath, muttering a curse beneath it as he did so. But Peter was...something else. He'd taken control of the situation entirely, and once again he was lost to pleasure. He alternated his movements; between fucking back onto his cock and desperately rolling his hips against him. He was digging his nails into his chest, not enough to bleed, but enough to sting slightly. But it wasn't like he could blame him with his own harsh grip. 

 

 

He was almost primal. Given into instinct, so desperately wanting to come. He was not in the least bit quiet, eliciting gasping moans and low whimpers, of which occasionally turned into something more akin to growling. Roman almost thought that if he could see Peter's face, which was mostly hidden by the way he was looking downward and covered by a curtain of hair, he might see his eyes glow gold. It reminded him that what he had bedded was something wild and unnatural. Christ, how many people could say they got to fuck an actual werewolf? Roman could. He could, but he shouldn't. It was just another thing that aroused him so greatly he had to fight not to come immediately. He was trying to hold out as long as he could; to at least come second. But if Peter kept abusing his dick like he was, he wasn't going to make it. 

 

It didn't take long. Trying so hard to ignore his own need to come he focused as much as he could on Peter. That was probably the stupidest thing he could do, knowing that it only got him hotter, but if he trained enough of his attention on Peter he could at least ignore the need for a few minutes. So it was with rapt attention that Roman reached up to grip his cock, to try to speed up the process. He barely had to do much at all because the way Peter moved, it was like he was trying to fuck his hand at the same time. He arched his back a mere seconds later, and momentarily became silent. For a second he was seized to silence and stillness, and Roman could  _ feel _ him coming before it happened, because he became so tense inside and out that his insides were gripping him like a python. 

 

Roman had been still for the last few moments, just letting Peter use him, but his body finally gave way and he thrust his hips upward, deep; as deep as he could go. With a pitched gasp, stuttered and stuck in his throat he was coming, and Peter followed him directly after. His thighs shook and he still worked his hips against his cock, even though it was an incredibly minute movement. He finally let out that breath he'd been holding; a breathless sob of pleasure that came as he did. Roman felt the pulse of his body, inside and out. The way his cock jerked in his hand as he spilled the pearlescent fluid all down his chest, and the inside that literally felt like it was trying to drain him dry. He couldn't help but groan at the sensation; sensitive as hell, still spilling into him in spurts that were gradually decreasing in volume. He was so much tighter than a woman, and Roman felt it so much more. 

 

It took only moments but he swore, it felt like an eternity. When the stars had cleared from his vision Peter was quickly dislodging from him, leaving him cold, empty and covered in semen. There was probably a joke there but he felt like the entire situation was probably a punchline. Still struggling to breathe and think post coitus, his first issue was  _ not _ being covered in semen and yet his legs would not cooperate. Thankfully, Peter leaned over him to hold out a small box of wet-wipes. Roman wasn't sure  _ exactly _ why he had them but he had a feeling it was probably for jizz related spills. 

 

 

When he had cleaned up and thrown the remnants of their day of passion in the trash can next to Peter's bed, he turned to find him laying next to him, lit cigarette in hand. Roman settled back down on the opposite side of the bed, which wasn't that opposite to begin with. The bed wasn't very big. But now was the time for feeling awkward. What did you say after this? He cleared his throat and threw half of the blanket over his lower half, as Peter had done. 

 

“Was it good for you?” 

 

“I guess,” Peter said, breathing out the smoke he'd breathed in moments prior. 

 

“Well alright,” Roman said with a scoff. It was only half mocking disappointment. He was a little disappointed... 

 

“What do you want me to say? It was the best sex I've ever had?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Well, it wasn't. But it wasn't bad. Maybe if you weren't being a dick...” Peter passed the cigarette to Roman as he spoke, and Roman took it, drawing in the nicotine. 

 

“Sorry,” he said, blowing the smoke out once more and giving it back to Peter. He wasn't  _ that _ sorry. 

 

“You could be better,” Peter responded, taking one quick drag and then setting it in the ash tray on the nightstand. “With practice, maybe.” 

 

“You saying you want to teach me?” Roman asked with a laugh. It was a joke, for the most part. 

 

“I mean, if you want me to. I'm not saying no.” 

 

“And what would you do to teach me?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm. 

 

“I don't know...maybe you should bottom.” 

 

It wasn't something he was expecting, and he swallowed away a nervous lump in his throat at the proposition. 

 

“I don't know...I don't know why you'd want to do that. I thought you said I was too much trouble.” 

 

“I mean yeah, you're a lot of trouble. You're a pain in my ass, but maybe I can be a pain in yours if you'll let me.” 

 

“Oh, that's really convincing,” Roman scoffed. “Whatever, I'll think about it.

 

He was quiet for a moment, and Peter had returned to his cigarette while Roman stared up at his ceiling. He felt almost defiant with the knowledge of what Peter was suggesting. How  _ dare _ he? What was  _ worse _ was that Roman didn't entirely have a problem with it. 

 

“So you actually want to?” he asked after a few moments of silence shared between them. 

 

“I mean if you'd have asked me that weeks ago I'd have said no...but you had to go and put thoughts in my head with that stupid bet.” 

 

“Really?” Roman said with a chuckle. “She-it..” Peter parroted him in response and let the room fall to silence again. 

 

“What'd you do with that hundred, anyway?” 

 

“Nothing yet,” 

 

 

Once more the room gave way to silence, and Roman felt like he was still mildly intoxicated and therefor just content to lay there for the time being. He wasn't sure how long he'd been laying there when he turned to ask Peter a question. It died in his mouth before he spoke, and he wasn't even sure what it would have been. Something unimportant, he was sure. It wouldn't have mattered anyway because Peter had fallen asleep next to him. I felt some kind of deep, unsettling stirring in his chest and looked away. There was nothing left to do, noting left to ask. Had Peter not been sleeping, and had Roman not been still somewhat high, he'd have suggested they go looking now that the storm had passed. And yet he had no true desire to go looking around at the moment. It was fucking wet, he was half high, he was tired. So he decided to do as Peter had done and let himself drift off into an uneasy slumber. He could deal with whatever bullshit he was dealing with now later. 

 

 

Better yet, he could just ignore it. That was the healthy thing to do 

 


End file.
